


The Disaster That is Love

by dandelionweekes



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Gay, LGBT, M/M, Pining, Reddie, all of the shit i write is cute bc i'm a hopeless romantic, eddie is protective over richie, its cute i swear, lol, mentions of stan being into bill, richie is dumb and drunk, uh, yeye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 20:27:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20972570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionweekes/pseuds/dandelionweekes
Summary: When Richie's chance to ask Eddie to homecoming is swept away from him, he dissolves himself into a pathetic, drunken mess.-I CANT WRITE DESCRIPTIONS BUT THIS IS CUTE I PROMISE.mentions of stan being into bill lOl





	The Disaster That is Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hope yall enjoy OWO

Richie looked down at the poster board that was laying at his feet. Forest green glitter was everywhere, coating his hands, sticking to his jeans, scattered across the carpeted floor of his bedroom, and he was giving Beverly a grave look, his mouth hanging open in shock, eyes wide, hair disheveled. 

“_ What?” _

“Homecoming’s in like, a week.” Bev said softly, curling the pink rosebud of her bottom lip into her mouth. She took it between her bright white teeth, rolling the flesh gently as a sorrowful look coated her features. “I’m sorry Rich, but you waited too long.”

“_ Waited _ !?” Richie felt a burst of anger explode within him. He lunged forward slightly, the glitter rattling from his jeans and hands and onto the floor. His eyes were growing wider and wider by the second, and his knees were digging into the poster. “ _ Waited!? _ ” he repeated. “I’ve spent this _ entire _ month trying to figure out the _ perfect way _ to ask him out! I wouldn’t call that _ waiting _, Bev.” 

Beverly sighed, brushing a curl from her face. She gave Richie a somber look, shaking her head. 

“What am I supposed to do?” Richie asked, voice cracking slightly. He looked at her pleadingly, silently begging her to give him all the answers, but she simply stared back at him, just as helpless as he was. 

“I’m not sure, Rich,” she tilted her head to the side, eyes big and sad, and for a moment Richie thought that she looked quite motherly staring down at him with her normally sharp green eyes growing soft. 

“Who is it?” Richie inquired, still leaning forward onto the palms of his hands. “Who’s he going with?” 

“Trever Herzfeld,” Bev said, shifting in the metal foldable chair that she was sitting in. 

“_ Who?” _

“Trever Herzfeld,” she repeated, letting out a long sigh that her shoulders fell along with. “You know him. He’s unreasonably tall, always wearing that yellow sweatshirt with the daisy on it. Is basically attached to his sketchbook.”

Richie groaned, throwing his head back so that Bev could only see the whites of his eyes. He couldn’t believe that he had fucked up so bad, but then, no, everything had to be perfect, he reminded himself. Everything had to be perfect for Eddie, but then, things were never going to be perfect for Eddie because now he was going to homecoming with Trever _ Herzfeld _. 

“It’ll be okay, Rich,” Beverly tried in vain to comfort him, reaching out so that she could place a hand on Richie’s shoulder.

Richie jerked away, his face contorting and scrunching up. “It _ won’t _ be okay!” he exclaimed, flailing. “I was supposed to ask him out, and then tell him that I’ve been in love with him for _ six _ years, Bev! It’s been _ six years _!” 

“I know, Richie, I know,” and then Richie was thinking that now she _ sounded _ like a mom, all exhausted and worn down, and he frowned, feeling sorry for Bev. He couldn’t believe that she put up with him and his bullshit. “Things’ll work out, though, I promise.” 

-

Eddie was looking up at Richie, excitement bunching up in his eyes. “You’re going to homecoming, right?” he asked, tugging on the straps of his turquoise backpack. 

Richie threw a weighted glance his way for a second before he turned back to gathering all of his school supplies up. “No.” 

  
“Why not? Couldn’t find a date?” A small grin spread across Eddie’s face. His teeth were peeking out from between the slight stretch of his lips, and as Richie turned around to face his friend, he flicked his eyes down to that smile.

Then, returning his eyes to Eddie’s, he shrugged. “Yeah.”

Eddie’s face fell, the smiled immediately dropping from his lips. He watched as Richie turned to walk off out of the classroom, and for a moment he was stuck in his place, standing there dumbly, but then he swung around, calling after the taller boy. 

“Richie!” He sped up so that he could grab the back of Richie’s black and white checkered flannel. Richie stopped dead in his tracks, “You’re really not going?” His eyebrows knitted together and his lips were tugged down into a small frown. 

“Nope,” Richie said, and he was still facing out into the hallway. 

Eddie pulled him back into the classroom with a good few tugs on the back of his shirt. His face hardened; something was off; he just knew it. “Rich,” Eddie said sternly. 

Richie turned to him, sighing as if the conversation was draining---which, it was. He didn’t want to talk about homecoming and how Eddie was going with Trever fucking Herzfeld. He didn’t want to think about the two slow dancing or holding hands or _ kissing _. And sure, it was shitty of his to act this way. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that he was unreasonably jealous---well, it was, but---

“_ Why _?” Concern washed over Eddie’s features, and a frown of consideration was tightening on his lips. 

“I’m just...not.” Richie said, finally turning to look at him. He scanned Eddie, feeling his stomach churn uncomfortably. _ It should be me _ , he thought, _ taking you to that stupid dance. _But it wasn’t, and that’s why he wasn’t going. But of course, he couldn’t tell Eddie that. 

Eddie looked thoughtful for a moment. “Why don’t you go with me?” 

The words made Richie stiffen, and _ what? _he thought vaguely, heat rushing to his cheeks. 

“Y’know, tag along with me and Trever. It’ll be fun.” He suggested, eyes sparkling. 

  
Richie deflated, shaking his head. His mop of dark curls shook along with him, bouncing every which way. “I don’t really feel like being a third wheel, Eds, sor---”

Eddie cut him off, clasping his hands together tightly, “Ple_ ase _ !” he begged. “You’re my bestest friend in the _ whole _world, Richie! I can’t go to homecoming without you! We went together both sophomore and freshman year, Rich! We can’t break the tradition!” 

“But you have a date this year,” Richie pointed out.

“Yeah but _ still! _” Eddie continued to beg, bouncing up and down on his toes with an eager hopefulness, and then, finally, Richie relented. 

“Fine,” he sighed. 

“Yay!” Eddie beamed, glittering with excitement. He pushed himself up onto his toes so that he could press a chaste kiss of thanks to Richie’s cheek, and as he did so, Richie felt butterflies erupt in his stomach. 

_ Stupid Trever _ , he thought mournfully. He was much better for Eddie than that fucker was. He knew Eddie’s favourite food---chocolate ice cream with fudge sauce, rainbow sprinkles, and a mound of whipped cream. He knew that Eddie’s favourite subject was science, which he never quite understood because science was _ boring as shit _, but which he respected. He knew about Eddie’s lucky lilac scrunchie---something that Bev had given him years ago, telling him that it was magic to quell the overbearing anxiety that he sometimes dealt with. He knew about how he hated his middle name, and sometimes his mom, and sometimes Richie. 

He knew Eddie inside and out, and yet, he was going to have to watch him prance around homecoming with a boy that wasn’t _ him _.

-

“I think it’s good that you’re going. Maybe you’ll run into someone else and get over Eddie,” Beverly suggested, straightening Richie’s bowtie. Her pink tongue poked out from between her soft lips as she did so, and once she finished she stepped back, beaming at Richie as pride settled on her features.

Behind her, her boyfriend Ben was sitting on Richie’s bed, nose buried in a book. Richie looked past Beverly, scanning his chubby features. He thought briefly that he was incredibly lucky to have Bev. If only he was lucky enough to have Eddie…

“You ready to go?” she asked, tilting her head with a small smile. 

Richie studied her for a moment. Over the course of junior year she had let her hair grow down to her shoulders, and she looked so delicate with red locks straightened, framing her face. She was wearing a slight amount of makeup---just a tad on her lips and eyelashes. “Yeah,” he said, then his eyebrows scrunched up, “where’s Stan, Mike, and Bill?”

“They’re meeting us there.”

And okay, Richie was thinking. If he was being _ forced _ to go, maybe he should try to make the most of it. Maybe instead of moping about Eddie all night he could have a little fun, but then, when they arrived at the dance, that plan was proving to be a little hard---no, _ really _hard. 

He hated seeing Eddie all tangled up in Trever’s stupid arms, but he couldn’t pry his eyes away because Eddie just looked so damn _ good _. He was in a well-fitted tux that hugged his slim body perfectly. A deep purple tie hung from his neck, and a grin was plastered onto his face

Richie watched the grin disappear as the two turned, and then all he could see was Trever’s stupid broad back. He groaned, throwing his head back. “This sucks!” 

From beside him, Stan agreed. “I hear ya man,” he said, disappointment weighing his tone down. 

Richie glanced over at Stan, frowning. They were both in the same boat, pretty much. The only difference was that Stan has never even _ planned _on asking Bill to the dance. 

“I just don’t want to mess up our friendship,” he had explained to Richie one night when they were sitting on the hood of his shiny red car, smoking a joint. 

Richie thought that he was mature for that, but he didn’t have the same resolve. He just wanted Eddie to know, even if it destroyed things. And he had been trying to tell Eddie since freshman year, but things always happened, or came out wrong. He had even tried not-so-subtle flirting, but Eddie always took it as a joke. 

Things seemed hopeless. 

“Couldn’t he at _ least _ have picked someone better to go with?” Richie grumbled, crossing his arms tightly. His face contorted and twisted into something sour. 

“Like you?” Stan asked, stifling a laugh. 

Richie threw Stan an unamused look before he glanced back over at Eddie. He was giggling brightly at something that Trever had said, joy making itself very apparent on his features and Richie felt his stomach churn. He wanted to be the one to make Eddie laugh like that. 

Suddenly, things felt very heavy, and Richie didn’t feel like he was really up to lingering around homecoming much longer. It was overwhelming and he was sweating absolute _ bullets _. And god, he had liquor back at home, why was he killing time at a stupid dance that he didn’t even want to be at? 

“Hey, Stan?” he asked, turning to Stan. His sharp jaw was set tightly as he watched Bill grin down on a petite girl with dark brown hair that went down to her ass. Stan turned his head, looking a little dazed, blinking at him. “You want to ditch this shit?”

Stan nodded eagerly. “I thought you’d never ask,” he grinned, and Richie did the same. 

Once the two were back at Richie’s place, they eagerly guzzled down the whiskey that he had stolen from his parents liquor cabinet. Four shots in and Stan, who’s alcohol tolerance wasn’t all that developed, was hammered. After six shots, Richie was the same. 

By eleven PM, the two were sprawled out on the floor, their elbows going red as the skin rubbed harshly against the carpet. They were giggling at mostly nothing, but also their sad lives. Their pining, their swooning, their seemingly unrequited love. It was all so sad. 

Richie laughed thinking about it all while he was laying on the hard floor, his stomach aching from the mirth and his throat burning from the whisky. He was certainly drunk enough, but he sat up to take a swig from the bottle, eyeing it blankly as he let the liquid slide and singe its way down his throat. He cringed at the taste, and from beside him Stan snatched the bottle, mirroring his actions. 

“Stan,” Richie slurred, adjusting his glasses as he tried to focus his eyes on the curly haired boy beside him. “Don’t drink so much, you’ll throw up,” he warned, but Stan just looked at him out of the corner of his eye as he continued down the alcohol. 

When he stopped, he pulled the bottle from his mouth with a popping sound. His lips were red and swollen, shining with liquor and spit. “D’you think we’ll ever be _ not _this miserable?” he asked Richie, handing him back the bottle. 

“Sure,” Richie replied, “once I find someone better than Eddie...which...won’t ever happen.” He flopped backwards, and some whiskey splashed out of the bottle as he did so. He set it down, laying his arms out above his head. He blinked and the ceiling wobbled. 

“Hey,” Stan tapped his shoulder, frowning. “How about that girl...what’s ‘er name?” he slurred out in question. “Lillian?” Despite being seated, Stan tottered from side to side, the whisky hitting him harder than ever. The world spun and he swallowed some bile that crept up his throat. 

“Yeah,” Richie thought about her for a moment. There was no denying that she was pretty, and that she was romantically interested in him. She had wonderful bright blue eyes and silky long blonde hair, but then, those blue eyes faded into deep brown ones, and the silky long hair dissolved into short brown locks that curled up at the edges. He frowned. “But no.” 

“What?” Stan asked. 

“It has to be Eddie,” he explained. “It’s always been Eddie…” 

“Yeah?”

Richie turned to look at Stan, his cheek pressed up uncomfortably against the carpet. “Is it like that with you and Bill?” 

“Yup.” Stan answered shortly. He let out a breath. “God, this _ sucks _.”

-

It was late when Eddie stumbled into Richie’s room, his eyes not yet adjusted to the dark in the Tozier household. He scanned the room. There were two lumps in the bed, and momentarily, Eddie frowned. 

_ Did Richie go home with someone? _ he thought, and then his stomach was turning uncomfortably and jealousy was sparking hotly within him. It wasn’t like he was allowed to feel this way, though. He reminded himself of this pointedly. But it was _ hard _ to not feel like that. Sometimes it felt like his feelings for Richie were going to explode out of him.

He had tried to deny them as best as he could, but no matter what he did, they always crept back up. Even when he was wrapped up in Trever’s arms, slow dancing under the coloured lights that had been put up for homecoming, he couldn’t help but glance over Trever’s shoulder to stare at Richie. 

Richie had looked perfectly dazzling during the dance, tucked into a clean, sharp-looking suit. His hair had looked messy as usual, the curls unwilling to be tamed, but that was just how Eddie liked it. And when he was sitting there next to Stan looking absolutely _ gorgeous, _it took everything in Eddie’s willpower not to pull away from Trever and tug Richie out onto the dance floor. 

Eddie walked forward, studying the two bodies in the bed, and much to his relief, it was just Stan laying next to Richie. The two were both still clad in their suits, and as Eddie leaned over to examine them, he could smell the pungent fume of alcohol wafting off of their breaths. 

Then, quickly, he shook Richie awake. Richie _ knew _ that Eddie didn’t like him drinking unless he was there. And, yes, maybe that was a little overbearing, but Eddie _ worried _about Richie. He knew that the other Losers didn’t care as much about making sure that Richie didn’t make wildly stupid decisions, and no matter how much they protested to that fact, it was true. The evidence was laying right in front of Eddie’s face. 

“Mghh…” Richie slurred as Eddie shook him a little harder. “Eds…?”

For a moment, Eddie couldn’t help but be amused by how Richie looked. His hair was a tangled mess of curls, spread out on his pillow above his head like a black halo. He had fallen asleep with his glasses still on, and now they were crooked and lying awkwardly across his face. 

But then, he pushed the thought from his mind, remembering that he was supposed to be angry at Richie for getting drunk when he wasn’t around to watch over him and see to it that he had gotten to bed safely. 

Eddie briefly thought back to a couple of months ago when the gang had gotten pretty hammered, even him.

_ The Losers were spending the night at Bill’s house, and after a long bundle of hours spent drinking, snacking, and watching movies the group was beginning to wind down. Richie tried to crawl into his sleeping bag, but from across the room, Eddie frowned. _

_ “Rich,” he said, and in reply, Richie only grunted as he struggled with the zipper. “You have to _ shower _ .” _

_ “What’re you? My mom?” Richie spun around to glare at Eddie, but he almost toppled over, so he relented, letting his shoulders droop. “Fine,” he sighed. _

_ Eddie helped Richie up from the floor, wrapping his hands tightly around Richie’s forearms to balance him. Once his feet were flat against the floor, Eddie smiled, murmuring a few words of praise to him. _

_ Richie beamed, “Thanks Eddie Spaghetti.” And with that, he began to walk off towards the bathroom. _

_ Eddie rolled his eyes then rifled through Richie’s bag so that he could pull out his pajamas, toothbrush, and retainer. _

_ “Don’t you think Richie is a bit too old for you to be babying him like this?” Stan asked from his place on Bill’s bed. _

_ Eddie glanced over at him, rolling his eyes. He was pressed up against Bill’s chest, peering at the comic book that Bill was reading. Eddie couldn’t believe that the two hadn’t gotten together already; they pined after each other so much that it was sickening. _

_ “No.” Eddie finally replied, voice tight and terse. The real answer was yes; Eddie cared a little too much to not be at least _ slightly _ overbearing, though. He cringed at that fact, thinking that he was acting a little too much like his mother, but then, he didn’t quite care. Richie had to be okay, and Eddie was the person to make that happen. Whether it was making sure he showered when he was drunk, or consoling him over something insulting that his mother had said, he was there for Richie. And as far as he was concerned, he’d be there for Richie forever, even if it was only for his peace of mind. _

_ After gathering all of the necessities, Eddie walked into the bathroom that was in the hallway. Richie was inside, struggling to take his shirt off. _

_ “Eddie!” Richie shrieked as the smaller boy entered the restroom. “Help!” _

_ Eddie vaguely wondered if Richie just miraculously lost all of his brain cells whenever he got drunk, because surely it wasn’t _ that _ hard to take your shirt off, but somehow he had gotten all tangled up in the fabric. _

_ When Eddie pulled him out, Richie gave him a wide grin. “Thanks, Eds!” he said, his eyes sparkling spectacularly. _

_ Eddie simply rolled his eyes once more, helping Richie undress down to his boxers. At that point, he screwed his eyes shut tightly, not opening them until Richie was behind the shower curtain. _

_ Sometimes when Richie was in the shower he sang in a headache inducing falsetto voice, but sometimes he sang normally, and tonight was one of those nights when he did. Eddie loved Richie’s singing voice, though he’d never admit it. It was undeniably rough and untrained, but it was also charming, sweet, and filled with passion. Even when it cracked as Richie reached for higher notes, it was never bad. The imperfections simply gave it character. _

_ “There was a sacrificial ritual inside my room last night, it was held there in secret, hard to see anything in the candlelight. Now, there is melted wax all over my floor…” _

_ Eddie’s brow furrowed. The lyrics seemed like mostly nonsense. He took a moment to question Richie’s music taste before the water stopped beating against the porcelain tub abruptly. _

_ “Done!” Richie announced, and the towel that Eddie had thrown over the shower curtain rod was pulled down. Richie wrapped it around himself as best as he could before he swung the shower curtain to the side. “I need help getting out.” _

_ Eddie nodded, standing up from where he was sitting on the toilet so that he could grab ahold of Richie’s hands. Richie struggled for a good few seconds before he threw his head back and groaned. _

_ “I can’t _ get out _ !” he whined, looking absurdly upset. _

_ “You can,” Eddie said softly. “Come on.” He tugged on his hand a little. _

_ Richie’s eyes fell to his feet and his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated hard on lifting his foot over the edge of the bathtub. Once he placed his feet down on the cold tile floor, he smiled, looking at Eddie for more praise. _

_ Eddie looked up at Richie, smiling slightly. His hair was wet and little beads of water were dripping from the locks. More beads of water were tangling with his eyelashes. He looked breathtaking. “Good boy, Rich.” In response, Richie grinned widely, then stumbled forward, towards where his clothes were sitting on the bathroom counter. _

_ Once Richie was changed, had brushed his teeth, and popped his retainer in, Eddie guided him to his sleeping bag and tucked him in. He took a minute to study Richie, then, letting his eyes scan over the silver bands of moonlight that were laying across his features. He smiled, petting Richie’s curls gently. _

_ “Richie?” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ Eddie paused for a moment, sliding Richie’s glasses from his face. Richie was so drunk, he knew. So drunk that he certainly wouldn’t remember all of this in the morning. So, “I love you,” he said, folding Richie’s glasses up. _

_ Richie smiled lazily. “I love you, too, Eds.” _

_ And Eddie knew that Richie didn’t mean it, but for that drunken night, he pretended that he did. _

Now, in the present, Eddie was staring down at Richie who was all drunk and sleepy, looking way too adorable for his own good. And Eddie was reminding himself that he was supposed to be mad, so he said, “You’re not supposed to get drunk without me, Tozier.”  
  
Richie snorted, swatting away his glasses. “There’s still some whisky left in the bottle, Eds.” He was struggling to get the words out of his mouth. It was almost as if gravity was fighting against his lips, trying to shut them every time they parted, but Eddie still got the message. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Eddie replied patiently.

Richie let out an irritated noise. He tried to push himself up from the mattress, but his limbs weren’t working correctly. After struggling for a long while, he rolled over the edge, landing hard on the floor in front of Eddie. Eddie sat down next to him, watching his dark figure diligently. His heart began to ache. He had never seen Richie so drunk before, and something just didn’t seem right. 

“How’d you get in here?” Richie’s voice was muffled as his face was pressed up against his arm, and he didn’t have the willpower to move himself. 

Eddie sighed, “The front door was unlocked.” He cringed a bit at himself; he sounded _ so _creepy, so he added, “I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.” 

“Well, I did.” 

“But you’re drunk.” 

“I’m a big boy, Kaspbrak. I can take care of myself just fine.” There was a slight bit of venom that tinged Richie’s tone. It cut through the darkness brightly and made Eddie wince. 

“Did I...did I do something wrong?” 

“No.” 

The awkward loud sound of shuffling filled the room as Richie tried to push himself up. Eddie rolled his eyes, grabbing ahold of his arm to help him. Then, the two were sitting with their sides pressed up against each other’s, breathing these little shallow breaths that were filled with unspoken words. The tension in the air was thickening. 

“Are you...sure?”

“Jesus, Eddie, I said _ no _, alright?” 

“Am I too overbearing?” 

“_ Eddie _!”

“Sorry.”  
  
Silence fell between the two and Eddie shrunk down on himself, thinking back to the dance. Thinking about Trever’s cologne that was too sweet, and his breath that was minty, but not minty enough, and his clothes that felt too rough and didn’t smell of cigarettes at all. Trever was great, but he wasn’t Richie…

“You’re not,” Richie said, then, dissolving the silence. 

“What?”

“You’re not too overbearing.” 

“Okay.” 

Richie tossed his head back, pressing it against the mattress. He frowned. He hadn’t meant to snap but...it was just like his emotions were overflowing. He was angry at Eddie for going to homecoming with someone who wasn’t him, and he was angry at Eddie for not helping him brush his teeth when he was drunk because now his mouth tasted sour and stale with whisky. He was angry that he couldn’t kiss Eddie even though he really wanted to, and he was angry that Eddie always brushed his flirting off.

“I could go for a smoke,” Richie said, staring up at the ceiling. 

Eddie sighed. “Go ahead then, Rich, I’m not your mom.” 

“I can’t. M’dad threw all my cigs out.” The dark haired boy looked down at his hands, and they were shaking, and his drunk no longer felt bubbly and laughable, but instead, it made him feel sick, like he was on a permanently swaying boat. 

“Okay,” Eddie said, then he grew quiet for a moment. “Is something wrong?” 

Richie wanted to say no, but after thinking about the question for a few seconds, he said, “Yeah.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, biting it roughly. He didn’t like how Richie looked. His eyes were deep with some type of emotion that he couldn’t place, and he was shaking with that buzzing need for nicotine. Eddie wanted to pull him into a tight hug, but despite the urge to, he kept in his place, sitting stiffly. 

“I don’t know, Eds. I feel like---” he cut himself off abruptly, his breath hitching in his throat. 

“Rich,” Eddie placed a hand on Richie’s shoulder, then, with his resolve fading away, he pulled Richie against his shoulder, running a hand through his tangle of curls. Richie pressed his face further into the crook of his neck, balling up the fabric of Eddie’s shirt in his hands. 

“I feel like I’m in love with you,” Richie said after a moment, murmuring the words softly into Eddie’s skin.

Eddie swallowed thickly, his arms tightening around Richie. He didn’t dare breathe for fear that the moment would shatter and fade away, as though it was a dream. 

“Eddie?”  


“Yeah…?” Eddie croaked. Richie began to pull away, but Eddie shook his head, tightening his arms once more. “No.” He mumbled, pressing his face into Richie’s hair. 

Richie was drunk, Eddie reminded himself. He was so hammered, he didn’t mean what he said. But then, there was a part of Eddie that didn’t believe that. There was a part of him that thought his words to be genuine.

“You don’t mean it, you know,” Eddie informed, like he had any right to tell Richie what he did and didn’t truly mean. 

“But I _ do _!” Richie insisted, voice squeaking with emotion. He was still speaking into the nape of Eddie’s neck, and his breath was coming out hot against his skin. Then, a little quieter he said, “I was going to ask you to homecoming.” 

Eddie imagined dancing with Richie instead of Trever, smelling Richie’s spicy cologne and the faint scent of cigarettes on his suit. Grinning at Richie and wrapping his arms around him. Oh how he wished that Richie had asked him to homecoming instead of Trever. 

“I’ve been in love with you for six years,” Richie added. 

Eddie blinked, and hot tears were pricking his eyes. He let them roll down his cheeks as he twisted a dark curl around his index finger. “You’re drunk,” he said, though it mostly just served as a reminder to himself that Richie’s words didn’t hold any weight. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

Quickly, Richie ripped himself away from Eddie, both of their bodies going cold at the lack of contact. “Why don’t you ever take me _ seriously _ !” he exclaimed, far too loud for how late it was. He looked angry---no, absolutely _ vexxed _ , and Eddie hated to think that he was the cause of that. It made his heart ache even more. “I mean, here I was, thinking that I was being _ obvious _, but apparently your skull is just too fucking thick---” he cut himself off, squinting, and then realization washed over his face. “You’re crying.” 

Eddie wiped his tears away quickly, “No,” he said, but the words came out shaky and muffled. “I’m not.” 

“Why’re you crying?” Richie leaned forward to get a better look at Eddie’s face. He looked so worn and tired, Richie thought, like the night had aged him a decade or two. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie choked out, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes, but it did nothing to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. He swallowed, a large lump forming in his throat. He glanced off to the side for a moment before he returned his gaze to Richie. “Do you remember that night?” 

  
Richie blinked at Eddie curiously. “What?” 

“That night when we all got really drunk at Bill’s house and watched all of the Insidious movies and then Donnie Darko three times?” The words shot out of Eddie’s mouth as fast as bullets. The dam had cracked, and now everything was going to come out. He couldn’t hold back anymore. “And I helped you shower and brush your teeth, and Stan told me that I shouldn’t be babying you, and I _ know _ that. Y’know? I know that I shouldn’t but I tend to _ panic _.” 

“It’s like...it’s like when we were twelve and you fell out of that tree and you broke your arm and your wrist and your leg---” Eddie cut himself off to suck in a breath, and his cheeks were glittering with tears under the moonlight that streamed in through the window of Richie’s room. “And I couldn’t visit you in the hospital because my mom wouldn’t let me---” 

“Your mom wouldn’t let you?” Richie interrupted, scanning Eddie. He hadn’t known this; he thought that Eddie had just been mad at him for some reason and ignored him. But..

“_ No _ ! She wouldn’t!” Eddie shrieked, and then quieter he said, “And I know you were mad at me but---” he hiccuped, sniffling loudly--- “I couldn’t stop _ worrying, _ Richie! I can never stop worrying about you! Because I _ love you _! And that night, when we were all really drunk, you told me you loved me, but I know you didn’t mean it, because you were drunk. You didn’t even remember it the next morning---”

“I did,” Richie said softly, placing a hand on Eddie’s knee. “I remember everything…”  
  
Eddie’s eyes glittered. “You…” he paused, “Then why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because, like I said, you never take me seriously. I could be on my deathbed, and you’d still find a way to convince yourself that I don’t mean what I say.” Richie frowned, and it was still very apparent that he was drunk from the way that he wobbled and how certain words were slurred, but he looked gravely serious. 

“Richie…”

“Shush,” Richie said. He pushed himself up from the floor and stumbled a little bit as he walked over to his closet. When he opened the doors, they squeaked loudly. Stan shifted in his sleep and Richie cringed. 

“Richie, what’re you…”  
  
“Eds, quiet,” Richie reached up to the top shelf of his closet, grabbing the poster that he had spent hours making. Green flecks of glitter drifted to the ground as he pulled it from the shelf. Once he was back in his place sitting across from Eddie, he held the poster up. The glitter reflected moonlight into Eddie’s eyes.

The poster read _ Eddie Kaspbrak, will you go to homecoming with me? _ and it was terribly sloppy, but it was terribly _ Richie. _More tears rolled down Eddie’s cheeks. 

“I left homecoming because I couldn’t stand to watch you with _ him _,” venom dripped from the tip of Richie’s tongue as he blinked away images of Eddie dancing with Trever. “And I got drunk because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being with him…” 

“I’m in love with you, too.” Eddie said softly. 

Richie laughed then, but it was humourless and dry, and a little sad. “Why didn’t you ever believe me when I said that I felt that way about you?” 

“I guess…” Eddie paused, “I guess I always thought that you were joking or...or that you were too drunk to know what you were saying and...I guess I was afraid.” 

“Afraid?”

“That it would all be too good to be true, and I’d somehow manage to ruin things.” 

Richie frowned, his eyes growing deep with sadness. “Eddie...you could never ruin things.” He lifted a gentle hand up to Eddie’s face, caressing his cheek softly. 

“I feel like I already did.” 

“No, no, no,” Richie lifted another hand to Eddie’s face, pulling him closer. His eyes flicked down to Eddie’s lips, and he licked his own. “Can I...can I kiss you?” 

“Please,” Eddie whined. 

And so Richie leaned in, pressing his lips softly against Eddie’s, reveling in the fact that he was finally able to kiss Eddie---the love of his fucking _ life _. 

Eddie moaned softly as Richie slipped his tongue through his lips, and Richie still tasted like whisky hours later, but Eddie couldn’t get enough for some reason. “F-uck, Richie,” he stuttered out against the other boy’s mouth. 

Richie pulled away, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Christ, Eds.” 

“Fuck you, Tozier.” Eddie glared, a deep blush settling on his cheeks. 

“You wish,” Richie winked.

Eddie just shook his head, dismissing him as he slumped up against his shoulder. Truly, he wouldn’t have hesitated to jump Richie’s bones if he hadn’t been drunk out of his mind and if Stan hadn’t been asleep only a few feet away from them. 

“You should spend the night here,” Richie said after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

  
“I love you, and I really do mean it.”  
  
“I love you, too, Rich.”


End file.
